The Dark Lord Scorned
by Blue lace
Summary: So, what was the REAL reason why Voldemort went after the Potters that night? Find out in this noncanon nonsense tale.


Blue Lace's Notes: Hello readers, and welcome to, well… this story. It's not actually written by me… but my older (crazier) brother U. It sprouted up when we had a discussion on fanfiction slash and he sprouted a theory. I thought it was so funny, I demanded he write me a story on it. Once you read this, you will realize my brother is a certain type of person, and he enjoys literature, (maybe just a little too much) but I will leave you with these words…

Your slash- is gay!

Enjoy!

Author's Notes: My God, I never thought I would be write a Harry Potter fanfic a few weeks ago. A discussion over pizza about the zealous online community for Harry Potter caused me to conjure this theory, and thanks to copious prodding from my dear sister, this story. In addition, the "Your slash is gay" comment is a literal, non-offensive remark in regards to Yaoi fan fiction. I feel I need to explain my sister's actions lest she gets… I dunno, killed with sticks. Please enjoy, and fire reviews and constructive criticism my way!

The Dark Lord Scorned 

A Harry Potter Fan Fiction By Arbiter Azariah

Lucius Malfoy sat bolt upright in his bed, gasping for air, shouting. He clutched at his upper arm, hissing like the snake burned onto it, sitting snugly amidst the skull. It had burnt black; it always burnt black. Lucius let a moan of pain escape from his clenched jaw as he rolled out of bed.

Changing out of his bedclothes into dark robes, Lucius wondered what he wanted with him. What kind of business did he require done at this hour, as the day was dying? Rubbing at his sleepy eyes and sweating brow, Lucius groped about for his wand, Lucius attempted to compose himself, before disapparating out of his cold and foreboding mansion.

He had apparated in the antechamber of some sort of dreaded dungeon. Rodolphus had suggested the place should be used as a hideout. Secret, forbidding, secluded; nobody could hear the plans of the faithful, nor the screams of those that dared resist.

This night however, these were no screams of a hapless Muggle, or the cries of a wayward Phoenix supporter. No, these were the anguished cries of the Dark Lord himself.

Muttering foul words under his breath, Lucius opened the thick wooden door in front of him and descended the twirling stone staircase. The hissing cries of Lord Voldemort bounced off the cold igneous rock walls, continuing to dance about in the ears of a bemused Lucius. Reaching another door, Lucius threw it open, striding into where his master waited.

"What to you require of me, Lord-"

Lucius stopped. Not just in mid sentence, but as if every muscle in his body had frozen over. The sight seemed so bizarre, so depraved to Lucius, that although he stared Muggles in the eye as he tortured them, his grip upon his sanity seemed to weaken.

Lord Voldemort was kneeling on the cold floor, weeping over a shattered laptop.

"My Lord, you hold possession over a filthy Muggle device? This is the opium of a filthy, inferior population, just as you have taught us-"

"Oh, sod it Malfoy, my bloody laptop's broken and all you can do is whine about blood filth like some senile Nazi!" snapped the Dark Lord, staring into Lucius' eyes with his own, cold, pitiless ones. "It's all my own fault, mind you. Broke the blasted thing in a fit of rage. Foolish Muggles, they can construct universal libraries on bothersome machines, but don't even consider the damage a Reductor curse can do…"

"Universal libraries my Lord? I'm not sure I quite understand…"

"Fan fiction, Malfoy! Millions upon millions of metaphorical pages devoted to people writing about other people's ideas! And do you know what? I'd wager half of that stuff to be about those four Ratbags-"

"I believe you mean Marauders, my liege…"

"Silence! You didn't sign up to undermine me, did you?"

Lucius recoiled, trying to make sense of this in his own head. "But master," he began, "it all seems so absurd. Why would people spend so much time writing about ideas that aren't their own, let alone the Marauders?"

"People are lazy, Malfoy! The universe probably started with one book and the entire literary world was born of fanfic from this God-book. Do you remember when I wrote down our thesis statement and concepts in that book? You know the one, so people knew what we were yakking on about…"

"Ahh, of course master. And what a book that was..."

"Fanfic." Voldemort interrupted bluntly. "Borrowed the lot from this book… Mein Kampf I think it was called…"

"Sir!" cried Lucius, clearly astounded. "Do you mean to say our mission was born of petty plagiarism?"

Voldemort smiled sinisterly. "No, no, Lucius. Fanfic isn't plagiarism. It's a 'tribute of respect and admiration through the acts of artistic license.' Something like that anyway. Besides, it's all legal as long as you put a disclaimer stating you're too poor to be sued. Don't bother, Lucius," called the Dark Lord as he spied Malfoy flipping through his copy of Voldemort's Manifesto. "It's pretty hard to find. I think it's in the other editions, if you know what I mean," he added, winking slyly at his bewildered follower.

"Errrm, very well then master. This leaves one issue though. Why mention the Marauders?" ventured Lucius cautiously, trying to put aside the fact that Voldemort had also fudged the disclaimer.

"I don't just write philosophical garbage, Malfoy. I must admit; like many millions of squealing teenage fangirls, I too am a Marauder fan," admitted Voldemort quietly. "I wrote a fair bit of slash over time. Real vivid stuff too. I must show you sometime-"

"No, no, that won't be necessary my Lord. I have, errr… great faith in your literary skills and wondrous imagery," Lucius replied as he stepped back, holding up his hands.

Voldemort plodded on. "My favourite couple was Sirius and James. Can't you see, Malfoy? Him! Him! They're perfect! The couple is so right! The charisma, the charm, the manes of tousled dark hair swishing upon creamy skin…"

Lucius was edging towards the door, absolutely mortified. The Dark Lord was looking… sentimental. His eyes were misting over in a creepy sort of fashion, and the urge to dry retch was almost as great as that time Dolohov overdid it with the vodka. Yes, _that_ time. Lucius managed to control himself however, and decided to hear his master out. Besides, anyone capable at shooting pointy green light at you was well worth not upsetting.

"Here!" snapped Lord Voldemort as he threw something at Lucius. It was a ragged, yellowing newspaper cutting. It read "Potter Weds Childhood Sweetheart." Waving up at Lucius was a smiling James and Lily Potter, alongside a laughing Sirius Black.

"He's married." Voldemort intoned gravely. "Married to a girl. Married to Lily Evans!" screamed Voldemort, pounding the fragmented plastic of his once-intact laptop. "Do you know what this means, Lucius?"

Lucius considered answering this question seriously, he really did. However, his caustic tongue got the better of him. "That you enjoy rummaging about through year-old newspapers?" Suddenly tremendously aware of what he just said, Lucius twitched, edging for the door again. For perhaps the first time in his life, Lucius wished he wasn't such a smarmy smart arse.

"Very funny" sneered the Dark Lord, rubbing his hand to ease the pain of pounding it against the solid plastic. "This means my story is no longer canon! It's officially adverse to official events! I'm a failed writer! I've been a failed writer for over a year! All those nights I spent writing about Sirius' eyes meeting James'… the bodies intertwining… all contributing to an increasingly foolish image!"

"My Lord, it was a mistake anyone could have made. You didn't know-"

"But I should of!" wailed Voldemort, glaring sorrowfully at Lucius. "If I really knew what I was on about, I should have seen it coming! I directed my attention upon a hopeless dream!"

Lucius mused momentarily about the concept of his master declaring his bizarre sorrow through poetic mechanics. It was clichéd stuff, of course, but the Lord of Darkness, the world's greatest wizarding terrorist! Spouting poetic, literary language of any quality was downright… unusual.

Voldemort suddenly stopped. An evil look spread across his face as he stepped to his feet, brushing grime and plastic fragments from his robes.

"If I can't adhere to canon, nobody shall. What sort of tales will people spin when James Potter is lying at my feet? The travesty he has committed against my art will not go unpunished!

"Not to mention the fact that he's member of that Order of the Phoenix as well, my Lord," ventured Lucius. Perhaps it was best to spin an acceptable reason he could tell the other Death Eaters. Explaining to the likes of Dolohov and Avery that their master wrote slash for a Muggle community would not be either easy or wise.

"Yeah, that too" said Voldemort brusquely. Taking his wand in hand, he grinned in a twisted fashion.

"Tonight, Lucius, is the night we act upon that Pettigrew's information. Tonight, James and all those near him will face the wrath of a fanboy scorned! Tonight, I pay a visit to Godric's Hollow!"

And in a swirl of his robes, the Dark Lord disappeared into the night. Lucius began to massage his temples, sighing.

"Something tells me this will be an interesting night," he said to himself as headed out the door.


End file.
